Grief has a Gravity
by meltedheartofice
Summary: Anna's thoughts during The Next Right Thing and what came after. *I had to write this for personal reasons and I'm only a little bit sorry.*


How long had it been?

When had she first learned her head against the cold, hard rock, limbs sore and going numb, head aching, waves of grief crashing against her body?

Was it night yet?

Or morning?

It didn't matter.

None of it mattered.

It didn't matter that she had left with no provisions and no plans-if Kristoff had been there, he would have teased her for that and reminded her. But he hadn't been. And he wasn't there now.

And it didn't matter. Food. Water. Sleep. None of it mattered right now.

She had drifted in and out of sleep, and she only knew that because her mind was filled with images of half-dreams involving locked doors and rough seas.

Especially after finding the ship, she couldn't help but think back to her parents' death.

So many people had tried to offer her words of comfort and advice. They told her to be strong, have courage, carry on.

But one piece of advice stood out in particular.

A woman had approached her after the funeral service, when many citizens were passing through to pay their respects. She was older than Anna, but by no means old, and she gave a small bow as she approached.

"Your Majesty. I am so sorry for this terrible loss. Try to keep your head up. Be strong. Don't let the grief consume you. It will pass with time."

Anna nodded in thanks. This advice wasn't unique; it was what came after that made it memorable.

An old widow came up to her then, taking her hand.

"My dear princess. I hope you will not heed this terrible advice that you just received."

Anna's eyes widened in surprise at the woman's bluntness, then narrowed in confusion at her meaning.

"As an old woman, I have enough experience to tell you that loss never gets easier. You will always miss those you love, and will need to say more and more goodbyes.

"As for not letting the grief consume you...my dear, there is no other option. It will come in huge, crashing waves, and there is simply no use trying to fight them. Do not go so far as to drown, of course; but keep gasping for air until you can breathe again.

"The waves will calm, but the tide will come and go and never fully leave. Some days, the waves will gently lap the shore, and you will be able to dip your feet in. Other days, it will suddenly have you up to your neck in water, sometimes without warning.

"Whatever you do, whatever you feel, the only emotion to fight is shame. Never be ashamed of what you feel. Do not look back and wonder what could have been or what you could have done or why you still cannot speak without tears.

"It will not pass. You will survive. But you will struggle. And it will never pass."

Squeezing her hand one last time, the woman walked off, alone.

The advice had never made more sense to Anna than it did now.

It was why she had tried so hard to make Elsa see that their parents' death had not been her fault.

Of course their trip had been about Elsa; everything had been about Elsa. And Anna could have been bitter, but she wasn't, not since love prevented her from being bitter.

But it wasn't enough. Love hadn't been enough.

It hadn't been enough that she had chased after Elsa. She had left everything behind, she had promised to keep her sister safe. She she chased her into the mountains and into mist and into fire and would have chased her into the sea. She had shut down the attempts of the love of her life to propose because the timing wasn't right, and now it would never be right, because she was alone.

Her love for Elsa hadn't been enough. She had done all she possibly could-and for what?

She pictured the icy truth that had materialized before her hours earlier. Truth. Had that been the goal?

Had Elsa sacrificed herself for something greater?

She knew better than to discount Elsa's sacrifice. Elsa loved her differently-but still loved her. _Had _loved her. In her own way.

Had Elsa done the right thing?

If she had, then it was up to Anna to do…

_The next right thing._

The phrase echoed earlier from her conversation with Lieutenant Mattias, and the sudden connection would have made her smile, except that it didn't.

The dam. She would focus on the dam.

And what then?

She supposed she would find Kristoff, if he wanted her to. She supposed that the mist would clear and they would go back to Arendelle. Arendelle-another pang of grief. They would be a people without a home. Without a queen, except for her.

_Queen. _She would be the queen. She would have to fight through her grief and do what Elsa did-but _without_ Elsa. Just like Elsa had done it without her.

She would be alone. No Elsa. No Olaf. Kristoff had wanted to marry a princess, not a queen-that was different-and had probably tired of trying to ask her anyway.

She couldn't think about the future. Focus on the next right thing. Focus on the dam.

She couldn't do that either, but it didn't really matter if she could or not, because she _had to._

So she got up, but not because she could.

She went out into a world that seemed further away somehow; her burning eyes and aching head and all-consuming grief made the whole world seem like a portrait of some far off land.

She screamed and fought and ran.

She gasped for air, not daring to hope that she might breathe again someday.

The ground trembled beneath her feet as rock giants pursued her, but it felt natural, because the whole world was spinning anyway.

Suddenly, she was swept up and found herself both moving faster and not moving at all.

The strong arms that had scooped her up now held her close to warmth and a familiar scent.

_Kristoff._

She hardly remembered explaining where they were going, but somehow they got there. Determined, with the end in sight, she ran to the dam. She commanded the soldiers. Their conversation was a blur, but suddenly she was running. They were summoning the giants. They were smashing the dam.

She hadn't really had a plan for how to get off of it once it started to collapse, so she just kept running.

And falling.

In an odd way, the falling felt good. The shot of adrenaline when she thought she was dying convinced her that she still wanted to live.

She stopped falling. She shot up out of the rubble, her whole world turning to darkness and warmth and heavy breathing and pounding hearts as Kristoff held her to his chest, and she finally collapsed again.

As the adrenaline subsided, new waves of nausea and pain and pounding headache took its place. She gasped and shook and didn't dare to move for what felt like a long time.

Eventually their breathing calmed and Kristoff stood, bringing her to her feet but letting her lean on him. She gratefully accepted the support.

Somehow, she told him about Elsa, apologized for what had happened. The one thing she remembered was his response: _My love is not fragile._

Their love had been forged in the fires of hardship. In the face of new hardship, their love would be the one constant to hold her steady. She wondered how in the world Elsa had ever done it alone.

The fog lifted; reindeer ran; everyone rejoiced.

But not Anna.

Grief was always loneliest when surrounded by joy.

A sudden crystalline flurry brought her out of her reverie, drawing her gaze toward a figure riding a horse over the water.

_Now I'm hallucinating. Fantastic._

Except that it wasn't a hallucination.

It was Elsa.

After the fact, they talked about everything. It almost felt like there was more to discuss now than when they had first reconnected three years prior, because now they were more certain with each other and with their decisions.

Elsa apologized for everything. Normally, most of her apologies were unnecessary; in this case, it was both necessary and insufficient. Anna kept herself from her reflexive response that it was all right, because it _wasn't_, but _they_ would be. Already, Anna felt herself clinging less and felt Elsa pushing away less.

They discussed the fact that both had now had the experience of being trapped in a human-shaped prison of solid ice, and also of being outside of that prison, thinking all hope was lost.

They agreed that inside was terrible, but outside was worse.

After a while, Elsa took Anna to Ahtohallan, riding on the back of the Nøkk over suddenly calm waves. Elsa had given her multiple reminders to dress warm, adding additional layers each time; but it honestly wasn't all that cold as she watched her family's history unfold before her.

They shared joy and sorrow and anger and held all three together, because that was life, and it was all they could do to accept the emotions as they came.

They cried, laughed, gasped for air, held onto each other, and, eventually, breathed.


End file.
